


The Way Back

by StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: So.... yeah, and so is kali, anyway, because this is fanfiction and if i want them to meet i can do that, hopper's in russia, i havent watched stranger things for about a year so i might have gotten some stuff wrong, this idea struck me about two and a half hours ago and i just wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26809024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese/pseuds/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese
Summary: Trapped in a Russian prison camp, Jim Hopper can see no way out, and no way back home.That is, until a mysterious woman appears.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Kali Prasad, Kali Prasad & Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	The Way Back

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in less than two hours, so.... yeah

The work was backbreaking.

The air was frigid.

The guards were vicious.

Jim Hopper hated Russia with all of his being.

If Joyce were here, he was sure she would say something like _“I’m sure the normal civilian Russians are very nice! Plus, I’ve made friends with this probably-not-that-vicious guard who’s gonna help us escape and definitely not shoot us in the back!”_ but Joyce wasn’t here, Jim was. And he had decided that he hated Russia. And Russians. And prisons.

Specifically _this_ prison.

It was made all the worse because as one of the newest prisoners, Jim was given the worst work, the worst meals, and the worst sleeping arrangements. 

So he was the one who got the cot beside the open (though barred) window.

Even though it was colder than the Arctic out there. Even though his fingers and toes were purpling. Even though his stomach growled and his hands were bleeding and his ribs were just barely beginning to show. Whatever. Better him than one of the younger guys.

Jim was lying in bed, trying and failing to not think about Joyce, about El, about Hawkins. He wondered if they were okay. He wondered if the monster had been defeated. 

He wondered if they had survived.

The barrack walls were thin, and he shivered. It was still snowing outside, and some of it was falling on his back. None of the prisoners were even given blankets. Jim curled up in a ball, trying to preserve heat.

And then there was a soft rustling at the window.

Jim rolled over and nearly had the shock of his life.

There was a woman at the window.

She wasn’t looking into the room, rather, she was looking down, probably at a ladder or something. She was grumbling to herself, too soft to make out any words, and eventually the woman just heaved a sigh and looked up.

She met his eyes.

“Shit,” the woman hissed, and the accent was so familiar Jim felt his heart start to race.

“You’re American?” he blurted out.

The woman hesitated, but nodded. 

“That’s great. Me, too.” Jim glanced around furtively, then leaned close to the bars on the window. “Help a guy out, will you?”

“I was looking for my sister,” the woman said, gripping the ledge tightly. She had a slight accent, though Jim couldn’t place it, and she was looking at him suspiciously. Jim couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t trust him in this situation, either.

“Your sister?” he asked, trying to look as friendly as possible. “Well, she’s not here, I’m afraid. There aren’t any women in this camp.”

The woman looked disappointed. “I was so sure… he said…”

“Who said?” Jim asked, trying to keep her there as long as possible. Even if she didn’t break him out, she was doing a good job of blocking the wind, and he was relishing in that feeling.

“Br– a man,” she said. “My– my father. The last time I saw him, he said that I could find the way back to my sister at a camp in Russia.”

“Well, we’re in Russia, all right,” Jim tried to grin. “Can’t you feel the cold?”

She did not look particularly impressed, and Jim swallowed.

“Look,” he said, “I need your help. I have to get out of here, and– you’re clearly good at sneaking around, if you got in. So. Please. Help me.”

The woman looked conflicted, and Jim gripped the bars tighter.

“Fine,” she said, pulling a screwdriver out of her jacket, and Jim felt his entire body sag in relief. “But don’t slow me down.”

“I won’t,” Jim said quickly. “I was a soldier.”

“Hm.” She gave him a once over as she started working on the screws of the barred window. “You look like a skinny old man to me.”

“Hey!”

She fixed him with a glare. “I’m the one with the screwdriver, old man. Now be quiet.”

Jim huffed in indignance, but didn’t say anything else. She was right. She _was_ the one with the screwdriver.

After what felt like way too long, the window creaked open, and the woman started climbing down her ladder. Jim scrambled after her.

“Hurry,” she said softly from below him.

“I’m _coming._ ”

“Come faster, or I’m leaving you!”

Jim dropped to the ground, and the woman let out another hiss.

_“Be quiet!”_

“I _am,_ ” he snapped, and she shushed him again, leading him to a nearby icy ditch.

Jim and the woman huddled together in the relative safety of the shadow of the barrack, watching the camp and the tracks carefully. The night shift was on, and there were miserable nocturnal prisoners pounding away at the spikes. Jim’s head ached at the noise.

“I don’t understand why he sent me here if my sister is nowhere to be found,” the woman growled suddenly. “This is just like him, to trick me. I should have known.”

“Well, maybe your dad was just being unnecessarily cryptic,” Jim grumbled. “Can you clarify with him what that mysterious statement about finding your sister in Russia was all about?”

“No,” the woman said flatly.

“Why not?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh,” Jim said. “My condolences.”

She smiled, and it was vicious. “I wasn’t sorry. He was a bastard.”

Jim blinked. “Fair enough. I’ve known my fair share of evil fathers in my time.” He thought of Brenner, of Lonnie, and of all the others he’d seen over the course of his career. “I’m a dad. I, uh, I have a daughter.”

The woman’s eyes did not leave the fence. “Oh?”

“Yeah. When we get out, I’ll have to look for her.” He thought about El, and then about Sara, and his chest ached for a long moment. He took a deep breath. “I love her more than I love myself, sometimes.”

“That’s the way a father is supposed to be,” the woman said quietly.

“Yeah.”

They fell silent, but the woman continued to survey the camp, and grinned when she saw a clear path through the snow.

“Let’s go,” she said, and started forwards, but Jim grabbed her arm, shaking his head violently.

“No,” he said, and pointed at the watchtowers and the searchlights that swept over the wide swaths of freshly-fallen snow. “You go that way, you’ll be killed before you get within ten feet of the fence.”

“Ah,” the woman said. “I see.”

“We’ll have to find another way out,” Jim said, and just as he said that, there was an explosion on the train tracks.

Prisoners and guards alike screamed and dove for cover. The dogs started barking up a storm.

“What the hell?” Jim yelled. 

The woman dragged her coat sleeve across her nose and grinned at him. “Let’s get out of here.”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the fence as guards rushed towards the source of the explosion. Jim took a deep breath, but, oddly, he couldn’t smell any smoke. 

It didn’t matter. There was no time to focus on that. Jim and the woman skidded to a stop just before they hit the fence, and Jim grabbed the bottom wire, praying it wasn’t electric.

It wasn’t. The woman flattened herself on her stomach, and Jim held up the wire for her, paying no attention to the new cuts on his palms– they were so numb he couldn’t tell the difference.

Once she was through, the woman took the lower wire from him and Jim scrambled beneath the fence, ignoring the way the barbs bit into his thin clothes.

And then they ran.

“The woods!” the women shouted, and led Jim away from the valley where the camp was, all the way to the edge where they dove into the trees, swatting away leaves and branches and tripping over roots but always moving, moving, moving.

They ran and ran and ran, and somehow the guards never saw them. 

_Lucky,_ Jim thought wildly. _We got so, so lucky._

Finally, finally, once the camp was long out of sight, Jim staggered to a stop, and the woman followed suit. They were both breathing hard, and Jim stumbled over to a log to flop down on top of it, focusing on nothing but sucking in mouthfuls of the thin, cold air. He turned over to take in his rescuer’s face.

The woman’s nose was gushing blood– had she hurt herself sliding under the fence?– but she grinned at him.

“We made it,” she said.

“We did,” he agreed, panting hard.

She perched herself on a rock, watching him intently. “So– what’s your name?”

“I’m Jim Hopper,” he said, offering a hand, “but people call me Chief. Or Hopper. Sometimes Hop,” he added, thinking of Joyce and ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest at the thought of her.

“Kali,” the woman said, and shook his hand. The name rang a bell, but Jim couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Instead, he offered a nod to the woman.

“Nice to meet you, Kali. Thanks for the assist.”

Kali nodded back, and they began to walk. It was a long trek, but after months of working on railroads, Jim couldn’t find himself caring. He was dead tired, though.

At the edge of the woods, there was a valley. Jim squinted down into it and vaguely made out lights. A village.

“Well,” Kali said lightly, “I hope you find your daughter.”

“Thanks,” Jim said. “I hope you find your sister.”

She smiled at him. “It’s more likely she’ll find me first, but thank you.”

“What’s your sister’s name?” he asked. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Kali dipped her head. “She goes by Jane,” she said. “I used to play with her as a girl, but we were… separated. She found me a few years ago and we spent a couple of days together.” Her face twisted into an unrecognizable expression. “She has brown hair– it was short, but by now it’s probably longer. She had brown eyes, and pale skin.” For a moment, her eyes flashed with uncertainty, and the display of vulnerability was so unexpected Jim nearly tripped. “She has a tattoo on her wrist. It’s a tiny number. Eleven.”

Jane. 

Short brown hair.

Eleven.

_Oh my God._

Kali had turned, and was walking away, heading deeper into the woods. He had to act now, or he would lose her. He would lose his way home. He would lose Eleven. 

“Hey!” Jim yelled after her retreating back. “ _Hey!_ ” 

She turned, and Jim found himself smiling, the feeling alien but wonderful. God, when was the last time he had smiled?

“Hold on a second,” he said, and took a deep breath of the icy air. “I think we can help each other out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think?  
> :)


End file.
